Conversations: a romance in parts
by scribblingnellie
Summary: Greg Lestrade knows he's missed his chance to tell Molly Hooper how much he cares for her. But when Molly's engagement ends, they find themselves becoming closer. Could they be more than friends? And can Greg tell her how he really feels? Written for my winning bidder in the Rupert Graves Birthday Project. (and with a little deviation from the events of His Last Vow). For R.E.


**Barts**

'Have you heard?'

Deep in concentration, Molly jumped when he spoke. Looking up from the microscope, she smiled, her face brightening.

'Hey there. Heard what?'

Lingering for just a few seconds longer, captivated as always whenever he was around her, Greg smiled before pushing himself off the doorframe and walking into the lab.

'John and Mary.. and Sherlock.'

Holding up the two coffees he'd brought with him, he made his way over to where she stood at the bench.

Molly nodded, accepting the cup he held out to her. 'Thank you. Yes, Mrs Hudson rang me. She was.. rather excited.'

'I bet she was.' Grinning, he took a sip of the strong, delicious coffee. 'She's always so adamant about Sherlock and John being a couple.'

'Despite John's insistence they weren't!'

Greg smiled at the memory of seeing John and Sherlock at the reception. Out for some fresh air and a sneaky cigarette, he'd discovered them behind the large garden hedge, in each other arms and oblivious to everything else. And he'd been pleased to find out that far from ending John and Mary's relationship, Sherlock had been welcomed into it.

At least his friends had been honest about their feelings. Greg wished he could do the same. But then that was own fault; he'd left it too late and missed his chance.

'It's a good thing for him.' he said, putting his cup down on the bench. 'For all of them.'

'It is.' Her voice muted, Molly looked around the lab.

And he knew what she was looking at, what she was thinking - the quiet and stillness without Sherlock around. The consulting detective didn't need either of them much now he was off solving mysteries with his partners in crime and in love. But Greg still found himself a regular visitor to Barts; him and Molly had fallen into a quiet, comfortable routine of coffee over autopsy reports. And he was happy for it.

'Molly?'

'Hmm?'

Leaning back against the bench, he looked into her eyes, concerned. Shaking her head, she took another sip of her coffee.

'I'm ok. I am..' Nodding, her eyes serious. 'Honest, Greg. I'm happy for him; he needs John.'

'You're really over him?'

Focusing her eyes off into the distance, she seemed to go somewhere in her mind. Watching her, he waited. Molly came back from her memories, blinking and turned to him with a smile.

'I am.'

'And..' Greg paused, searching her face, her eyes before asking her tentatively.. 'and Tom?'

He remembered so clearly the pain in her face, the slump of her shoulders as they'd sat together in the small courtyard at Barts, side by side, as she told him that Tom had left her. And Greg remembered gently taking her hand as a sad silence had come over her.

Stood beside her there in the lab, he watched again as the pain crossed her beautiful face.

'I... I don't know, Greg.'

'Oh hey, Molly.'

And his arm was around her, hugging her into his side as he saw the tears spring into her eyes.

'I'm sorry... can't seem to stop myself.' Sniffing, she wiped at her eyes. 'Every time I think about it, about what happened, I just feel so stupid and foolish...'

Pulling away, he placed his hands on her arms, turning her to him. 'Right, now look at me Molly Hooper.'

Lifting her face up, she stared back at him; Greg felt himself drawn into her lovely deep brown eyes.

'You are not stupid or foolish or anything like that. Love does strange things to us. I mean, look at me.'

'But that wasn't your fault, Greg. You're a good man and you didn't do anything wrong; your wife cheated, not you. But this, this was my fault, no, it was ..' She shook her head as he opened his mouth to speak. 'I said yes when Tom proposed and I shouldn't have. Even when I realised, even as I sat through John and Mary's wedding and it hit me that I didn't want to go through all that with Tom, I said nothing. I was wrong. I lied to him, I hurt him.'

Dropping a kiss onto the top of her head, Greg put his arm back around her shoulders. Molly leaned against him, and the feel of her there made his heart stumble.

'We do things we think are right at the time. I'm in no position to judge anyone on their love life. I tried to pretend my marriage was fine, remember, that it wasn't falling apart around my ears. '

Molly slipped her arm around his waist. 'You are too good, Greg Lestrade.'

'God, I hope not.'

And her quiet laughter settled lightly into his heart. He would tell her; one day he would.

* * *

 **The Green Man**

'Fancy a drink?'

Molly looked like she needed one - her eyes were glazing over, her face furrowing in frustration. Unable to look away, he watched her as she stared blankly down at the pile of test results in front of her; Greg felt the little tug his heart gave whenever he looked at her.

'Sorry?' Looking up from the papers, Molly seemed to slowly refocus herself into the room.

And her eyes looked straight over at him; her beautiful brown eyes, with those little gold flecks, that stared into him, making his body warm all over.

Clearing his throat, he looked away, staring back down at the open, unread folder in front of him.

'I need a drink. Did you fancy one?'

'Oh, yes please. These results aren't going into my brain. Let's get out of here.'

Hearing her push the stool back from the lab bench, he looked up to see her grinning as she tugged her white coat off.

'Right.. ' Getting up off the stool, Greg grabbed his coat. 'Drink it is then.'

...

With the two pints held carefully in front of him, Greg made his way over to the small table in the back corner of the pub. While not full - the Green Man on a Wednesday night was always a quiet place to be - it was nice to have a little piece of privacy, just the two of them.

Smiling as he reached the table, Greg set the two full glasses down, and dropped the bag of crisps he'd been holding between the glass and his fingers.

'Oo, posh crisps, nice.' Molly reached over and nabbed the bag, quickly opening them to pinch a couple. 'I wouldn't've thought of you as a posh crisp fan.'

'Hah, well, full of surprises, me.' Settling in the chair opposite her. 'Anyway, I can be sophisticated. Sometimes.'

As Molly laughed, Greg found himself grinning; she had such a sexy laugh.

'I should probably be insulted.. but I'm not.' He reached over, turning the open bag round to pull a crisp out.

'Oh, no..sorry, I didn't mean... I wasn't laughing at you, Greg, I..' Mortified, her hand over her mouth, a small blush settled on her cheeks. And that made her look even more beautiful.

'Hey, it's ok. I know you weren't.'

'I wouldn't laugh at you, ever. You're always so good to me.' Molly turned her glass round in her hands. 'Listen, I know I've said it before, but thank you for being so.. you know, so understanding about me lying about Sherlock.'

Hearing the upset in her voice, Greg reached across the small table, and placed his hand lightly on hers. Her fingers stilled under his; soft and a little chilled from the pint glass.

'Molly, what you did for Sherlock, for all of us, was incredible.. Yes, it was.' Squeezing her hand when she shook her head. 'And I know I've said it before, but I really, honestly believe it - you're brave and amazing and you saved our lives. '

Letting his hand rest on hers, feeling the spark it sent up his arm, Greg rubbed her thumb with his.

Molly took a slow, quiet sip from her pint. 'Thank you.'

'You're welcome. And thank you.'

'For what?' She looked at him, puzzled.

'For all the times you sat with me and told me it wasn't my fault.' A gentle squeeze of her hand. And the lightness in his chest when she laced her fingers between his.

'It wasn't your fault. I mean I know it sounds stupid now but I really wanted to tell you the truth and stop you hurting so much and stop you blaming yourself, but...'

'Hey, I know, Molly. What you did - listening and just being there when I needed it - it meant a lot to me. Still does.'

All the evenings he'd found himself at Barts, sitting, talking while Molly finished up. Walking her to the tube station, a quick hug before watching her go. Her smile, her words, her hand on his shoulder - he kept the memories tucked away in his mind. He'd never thought of her in any other way than as a good friend, a hard working colleague, and a brilliant doctor. But in those two years - from standing by Sherlock's grave to when he casually reappeared in their lives - Greg'd found himself drawn to the quiet, unassuming pathologist. In the time they spent together, alone, working and talking, he began to see Molly as he never had before. He realised how much he'd taken her for granted; and how much he cared for her.

'Really?' Molly seemed surprised.

'Of course.'

'Oh.' She looked away, her eyes fixed on her glass. 'Well, um.. thank you. You always know how to make me feel better, Greg. '

'Anytime. Maybe we should have a pint together more often.'

'Yeah, I'd like that.'

Greg felt his heart stop and start when Molly smiled brightly, her eyes fixed on his. And that part of his mind, the one where he kept his feelings shoved right out of the way, opened just a little. Maybe he could do it; maybe he could work up the courage and ask her if she'd like to have dinner with him.

* * *

 **Baker Street**

'So, have you been seeing anyone?'

'Hmm? Me?' Lolling his head on the back of the sofa, Greg turned to look at Molly beside him.

'Yes, you. Who else is there here?'

And as he focused his eyes back on Sherlock's front room, he noticed that it was indeed just the two of them, sat side by side; the only noise coming from the occasional passing car outside.

'Oh.' Straightening himself up on the sofa, Greg leaned forward to put his mug on the coffee table, feeling a bit foolish. Had their friends left him and Molly alone? 'Where'd John and Sherlock go?'

Shaking her head, Molly smiled as she tucked her legs under her, head resting on her hand. 'Mycroft summoned them. Something about Magnusson and job done, or something like that.'

'Oh, right, ok. Guess I missed that bit.'

'Yeah, you did look like you'd nodded off.'

'Sorry.'

It had been a bit of a crap week - late night paperwork, his DCI on at him again about going for the promotion, a raid gone wrong. All he'd really wanted to do that Saturday night was crash out on his sofa , drink a few beers and watch mindless TV. Only when John mentioned that Molly would be there did he decide he'd go round to Baker Street.

'That's ok. You do look knackered.'

Turning to look at her, he smiled, running a hand through his hair. 'Long week. Sorry, what were you asking me?'

Her soft laugh sent a shiver along his spine.

'If you were seeing anyone. I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to, I know it's none of my business, but... you seemed kind of happier lately, I wondered if maybe that was why.'

The reason for his happiness sat opposite him on the comfy leather sofa. Though probably not the moment to reveal that, he told himself.

'No, no. Not seeing anyone.'

'No? Oh, that's a shame. I just wondered. It's been a while since..' Molly paused, seeming unsure whether to mention it.

'Since the divorce.' Greg finished for her.

It had been a while. Nearly three years; it probably was three years now that he thought of it. He wasn't trying to forget; for fifteen years of their marriage they had been happy. But things had happened since then that'd occupied his mind - Sherlock's death and reappearance, the internal inquiry, his growing feelings for Molly.

'Sorry. I know it was a bad time. Those two years were pretty shit all round...'

' _Pretty shit_!' Greg laughed. Molly swearing was something new; and he had to admit he rather liked it. 'Now I'd never thought to hear the quiet, sensible Doctor Hooper swear.'

'Hey, I can swear with the best of them.. when I feel the inclination.'

'No, no, swear .. swear away...' Trying to stifle a yawn that was overtaking him. 'Sorry.'

'Long day?'

'Yeah.'

Leaning back into the sofa, Greg felt Molly shuffle closer to him, letting their sides rest together.

'That's quite ok. Bit tired myself.' And her head was leaning on his shoulder.

Feeling her there, his heart beat a little faster and he found himself putting his arm around her. Comfortable.

'Greg?'

'Hmm?'

'Is this ok?'

'What, us sitting here? Yeah, definitely ok. Any time you need to, feel free.'

Molly shifted under his arm; her face turned upward and he was caught in her gorgeous brown eyes. Her serious look stopped his heart.

'Thank you. You're always a good friend.'

'I hope so.' Smiling, he hugged her into him. Greg was very happy that him and Molly were friends; whatever his deeper feelings for her, their friendship meant a lot to him.

And he knew when something was worrying her. 'So what's up?'

'Oh, I'm just feeling a bit cross with myself, a bit stupid, that's all.'

'You're never stupid, Molly.' He took her hand, wrapping his fingers around hers, resisting the urge to bring them up to his lips and kiss them.

'I feel it sometimes.' Squeezing his hand, she placed her head back against his shoulder.

Greg let his cheek rest on her forehead, her loose hair tickling his nose. He'd quite happily stay like this, Molly beside him, cosy under his arm.

'Why d'you feel stupid?'

The quiet wrapped around them; without a certain consulting detective, 221B was rather peaceful. The evening had darkened as they'd sat there, and the only light was the yellow glow from the street lamp falling in through the window, making patterns on the floorboards.

'Lots of reasons.' As she adjusted her legs underneath her, her body moved gently against him, making his skin prickle under his shirt. 'Sherlock. Tom. The wedding...'

The sharp ring of his mobile startled them both. Feeling Molly jump beside him, Greg swore under his breath.

'Bollocks...'

Lifting his arm from her shoulder, and immediately feeling the loss of her body, he shuffled forward on the sofa. Grabbing his jacket, he pulled his phone from the pocket.

 _Fatal armed robbery, Oxford Street. DCI wants us there asap. You sober to drive? Sally._

Damn it. He was finished for the day. Why couldn't Dimmock handle it?

'Work?'

Her quiet voice behind him caught his heart. Turning he gave her a rueful smile. 'Yeah. Sorry. I need to go.'

'Not a problem.' Pushing herself up off the sofa, Greg followed suit.

'Listen,' he said as he shrugged himself into his jacket, 'you'll be ok getting home on your own?'

'Of course, done it loads of times before.' She grinned as she helped him into his coat.

'Oh, I didn't mean... sorry.'

'Hey.' And Molly was reaching up, kissing his cheek. 'Thank you. I'll be ok. You go, do what needs doing. I've got a cat to get home to and feed before he tears the flat to pieces. I'm assuming there'll be a body for me in the morning.'

Nodding, Greg held the door open for her, letting her start down the stairs first. 'Yeah. At least one.'

Stopping at the front door, Molly turned to him. 'Thank you, for listening.'

'Pleasure. Anytime.'

Standing there, her hand on the door handle, she looked as though she wanted to say something more. But she didn't. Before Greg could wonder what thoughts were going through her head, Molly was turning back, opening the door onto the street, back out into the real world. A quick hug on the pavement and he watched her head up towards the tube station. What had she wanted to say? Greg pushed the scrap of hope that had escaped back down inside. Wishful thinking.

* * *

 **The Yard**

'Ah, yes, that black dress.'

'Oh, god, you remember?!'

As the blush spread across her cheeks, making her look even more gorgeous, Greg smiled at Molly. 'I remember. Whatever happened to it?'

All that tinsel his team insisted on hanging up around the office must have gone to his head; instead of spending the wet, cold evening working overtime, reviewing autopsy reports and test results for the court hearing, Greg and Molly had drifted into reminiscences of Christmas' s past. Not that he hated the festive season; it was just that discovering his wife was having another affair the day before heading off to Dorset for a family Christmas had made him a bit ambivalent towards it.

'Hmm, yes, well...' Closing the folder in front of her, she added it to the mounting pile on his desk. 'That dress ended up at the back of my wardrobe.'

Out of everything that had gone wrong, he'd kept hold of one good memory of that Christmas - Molly and that dress. Four years after the fact, he wondered if he should confess. As she opened another folder, turning and examining the pages, he studied her; the way she bit her bottom lip as she concentrated, lifting her hand to slowly tuck the straying hair back behind her ear.

'Greg, are you staring at me?' Her head still bent, eyes on the report, Molly's voice broke into his thoughts.

Bugger. Flustered at being caught out, he cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. 'Sorry.'

And he saw the smile twitch at the corners of her mouth. 'That's ok. I don't mind... I like it.'

'What?'

Glancing up, Molly was still trying to hold back the smile. 'You, watching me. You do that a bit.'

Now that made him sound creepy. Shit, he'd probably given her completely the wrong impression. 'Oh god Molly, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to.. I just...'

What could he say? Yes, he had been looking at her, he liked looking at her. He just hadn't realised he'd been so obvious about it.

'Greg, it's ok.' And she was standing up, moving around his desk to stand beside him.

'Really?'

'Yes.' Leaning back against the desk, she rested her hands on the edge. 'Can.. can I ask you something?'

'Of course.' His voice caught at his throat. Something in the way she looked down at him, so close, her hand only a fingertip's touch away.

'When did I start calling you Greg? I can't really remember when it happened.'

Pushing his chair back, he stood up. His heart was beating way too fast as he took her hand into his. He remembered exactly when she'd first called him Greg. At their lowest point, she'd reached for him and he'd been there.

'Sherlock's funeral.' Facing her, his eyes held hers. 'Everyone was leaving. Mycroft had gone, John went off with Mrs Hudson and you turned and took my hand.'

'Yes, of course. I remember.' Molly looked straight back into his eyes, her fingers entwining with his, a small gentle smile on her lips. 'And you asked me how I was getting home and offered me a lift.'

'And you thanked me, calling me Greg. And I thought maybe I...'

No. Dropping her hand, he stepped back. Turning, Greg looked out onto the dark London night, watching the lights blinking through the rain. What had he nearly just told her? That, standing by Sherlock's grave with his hand in hers, he'd wondered if he cared for her more than he may have realised?

'Hey. You ok?'

As she joined him by the window, her hand brushed against his. The spark ran up his arm and straight across his chest; he was love in her.

'Sorry.'

'For what? Greg...' And her hand was on his cheek, her face serious. '...can I tell you something?'

'Um.. yeah.' His voice faltered.

Her touch, the look in her eyes, made his stomach knot up; the tiniest piece of hope stole into his heart.

'I really want to ask you out to dinner.'

Greg felt his knees go weak. 'You.. you do?'

Shit. She liked him? The same way that he liked her? Molly ran her hand along his cheek, and he shivered under her touch.

'Yes.'

And suddenly he felt very, very brave. 'My turn to tell you something.' Grasping her hand back into his.

'What?'

Grinning, he leaned down, his lips by her ear, the feel of her so close tickling his skin. 'You looked amazing in that black dress.'

* * *

 **Molly's Front Door**

'Did you want to come in for coffee?'

Greg grinned. 'Just coffee?'

Under the faint overhead light, he could see the blush on her cheeks. Pushing him gently back from her, she rummaged in her bag for her keys.

'Yes, just coffee.'

'Oh.' Reaching out to softly rest his hand on her back as she unlocked her front door. 'Not even a good night kiss?'

Dinner had been lovely - they ate and chatted, Molly seemed happy and relaxed. Their knees frequently bumping under the small table had been quite nice as well. And her hand finding its way into his as he walked her home from the restaurant had made that little piece of hope once again creep from its corner in his mind, and down into his chest.

Keys in her hand, Molly looked back over her shoulder at him, and his heart jumped at her expression. She wanted to. Bloody hell, she wanted to kiss him.

'That... that would be nice.'

'It would?' Hope raced around his stomach.

'Yes.'

His hand still on her back, he stepped closer. With only a few inches between them, he let his other hand slowly reach up to touch her cheek. Soft and warm.

'Molly, I... I've wanted to kiss you for.. ' He stopped.

Did he reveal how long he'd cared for her? From that Christmas party through the two dark years of secrets and close friendship, and despite her engagement? Did he tell her that even as a married man - albeit separated - he had fancied her? And that the more they were together, the more he knew that he was falling in love with her?

'Greg?'

Reaching up, Molly placed her hand gently on his chest, her fingers catching at his shirt buttons. Feeling her touch through the thin fabric, warm and intense, he brought his head closer to hers, the smell of her - sweet vanilla - filling his mind.

'I never said anything.' Letting his hand brush along her cheek, her neck, coming to rest on her shoulder. 'Somehow it never seemed the right time, too much happening and then Tom and.. and I lost my chance.'

'Say it now.' And she was leaning into him, her head against his chest.

And as though it were the most normal, natural thing in the world, Greg's arms went around her. It felt right - Molly Hooper in his arms, his chin resting against her hair. Pressing his lips to her temple, he hugged her tighter.

'I care about you Molly. I have done for a while. I think you're lovely and intelligent and brave and sexy and..'

'Sexy?'

Voice muffled against his shirt, her breath tickled his skin. He felt her arms curve around him, hugging him closer.

'Oh, definitely sexy.'

'I think..' And pulling back, her gorgeous eyes looked straight up into his. Determined, sexy eyes. '..that a kiss might be possible.'

'Yeah?'

Greg felt his heart skip over several beats as Molly stood on tiptoes, reaching up towards him.

'Yes. A very long kiss..' A soft brush against his lips. 'Or two.'

Feeling his body respond, Greg caught her lips back. And it was just as gorgeous as he hoped it would be. He wasn't entirely sure how he managed not to melt into a puddle on her front step as they carried on kissing, lips hesitant but curious; Molly felt so wonderful there in his arms.

'Before or after coffee?' Greg let out the breath he been holding tight in his chest when they broke apart.

Molly stepped back, dropping her arms. 'Well, we shall have to find out, won't we?' And her hand took his as she stepped in through her front door.

* * *

 **And here is the fic for my winning bidder in the Rupert Graves Birthday Project. With happiness, a tiny bit of angst and a smidge of fluff! Many thanks for reading!**


End file.
